


Sea-Deep Till Morning

by Allekha



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Borrowing Clothes, Gen, Happy Ending, Injury, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 22:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15181133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/pseuds/Allekha
Summary: Healing from an injury and with his first Olympics coming soon, Victor borrows Yakov's coat and scarf and takes Makkachin to the sea.





	Sea-Deep Till Morning

This wasn't how Victor had wanted his first season in Seniors to go: silver at his first GP event, and then an injury that had forced him to withdraw from the second. He'd managed another silver at Nationals, skating on painkillers, securing himself a place on the Olympic team. Whether or not he'd be able to skate at Euros, only two and a half weeks away, was still a question mark.

Yakov had taken him to the best doctors, and he'd followed every instruction, for once, no matter how frustrating it was to give up on his most difficult elements to let his leg heal. He needed to be in good shape; he needed for his body to work properly again. Victor didn't care if people thought he was too new, too young to take the gold medal in Turin over his more-experienced competitors. He knew he could do it, and he wanted it so much that thinking about it made his chest hurt.

And he wanted gold at Euros, too. But today that seemed like a far-off dream, after a painful session with his physical therapist and a practice session where nothing had gone right. He'd fallen out of one spin and tripped going into another; he'd fallen into the boards when practicing steps; he'd almost run into Georgi during a run-through of his short program with all the jumps downgraded to singles.

It had been bad enough that Yakov let him go home afterward with a shake of his head and a pat to his back. Victor ran over every mistake in his mind on the way, trying to mentally correct them. Trying to remind himself of the bad days he'd had before, without even the excuse of an aching knee, that he'd come back from just fine the next day.

Makkachin greeted him at the door, her tongue lolling from her mouth as she tried to jump on him. For a few moments, Victor could forget all about today, too busy running his hands over her floppy ears and down her soft sides, telling her that she was the best dog in the whole world.

He should've done his schoolwork after that, waiting for Yakov to come back for dinner. He even sat down for a minute to try, but he could barely make himself read the words on the page. Besides, Makkachin was sitting by the doorway. He hadn't had enough time for her lately – he'd only just come back from Nationals a couple of days ago. Poor Makkachin. And the apartment felt too still.

The doctors had told him gentle exercise was okay even before he'd been cleared to skate again. An extra walk should be fine. He could finish studying later.

Makkachin was a smart dog. He only had to stand and look in the direction of the door for her to perk up and trot over, expectant.

Victor went to go get dressed up again – winter, so convenient – and noticed that one of the coats had fallen off the rack. When he bent down to pick it up, he found that it was Yakov's favorite coat, dark and thick. He stared at it, the material heavy in his hands, then on a whim turned it over to shrug it on.

He liked this coat. Yakov had draped it over him on long layovers, or given it to him as a blanket on planes and when Victor wanted a nap backstage during the long waits at competitions. Victor had clutched it for reassurance a few weeks ago, when he'd come off the ice after feeling the first sharp burst of pain, while he watched one of the medical staff at the rink inspect his knee and hoped that it wasn't as bad as it felt. The coat was too wide for him, but he'd grown to be around Yakov's height now, and it was familiar and felt like comfort on his shoulders. Like Yakov was hugging him.

Yakov had left his favorite scarf behind today, too. It was also Victor's favorite; it was extra long and extra blue. It suited Yakov, and it suited Victor when Yakov decided that he wasn't dressed up enough for the cold and wound it around his head and neck. Victor borrowed it as well, wrapped it once around his neck and let the long ends hang.

Makkachin kept at his heels as they headed out together, her eyes going brighter in the weak, clouded daylight. He decided that she deserved room to run today, and so he took her to the beach.

Not a lot of other people were on the icy sand today. Victor wandered slowly along the beach, arms tucked across his front, and watched Makkachin chase the waves. He wished he could have her energy today. All he could seem to think of, even with her bounding around, was how his knee ached. The stupid falls he'd had today. How he absolutely had to do better the rest of the season, because he wasn't satisfied with second place.

At least, until she came loping up to him and barked, like she was asking him why he wasn't playing. He smiled at her and followed her back to the edge of the sea, where the waves came and went, softening and then erasing every footprint they made. The sky today was thick and looked like snow, and it was already growing dark.

Victor stared out at the ocean, letting the rhythm of the waves and Makkachin's antics take his thoughts away, until the first snowflakes started to fall. He tilted his head to the sky, then stuck out his tongue to catch one. His own silliness made him laugh. When he looked down again, Makkachin was sitting next to him. Her warm gaze made him kneel down to give her a hug and loop one end of the scarf around her, like in that one photo they'd taken this summer. She looked very fetching. It was too bad he'd forgotten to bring his phone or camera so he could take a picture.

It was well past dusk by the time they finally made it home. Victor hadn't even taken two steps inside before Yakov appeared, a deep frown on his face. "Vitya! Where have you—" His face softened into something more worried as he cut himself off.

"Hi," said Victor. He felt better, after the walk, but the word came out without his usual cheer.

Yakov sighed and shook his head, then came over to help him with the scarf. "You should know better than to leave the ends hanging so long behind you," he scolded. "Wrap yourself up properly, it's cold out and you're not even wearing a hat! And they could have caught on something, maybe the doors in the metro."

Victor mostly let him lecture as Yakov folded the scarf, then helped him shrug the coat off and hang that up, too. "I'm not going to choke to death because my scarf got caught in a metro door," he said. "We went to the beach. It wasn't going to get caught on anything there."

"If you knew you were going that far, you might've left a note. Or taken your phone so I could ask where you were and if you'd be back for dinner."

"Were you worried about me? I'm not injured that badly."

"I always worry about you, since you don't," Yakov grumbled as he finished wrestling the coat onto its hanger and the hanger onto the rack. "Don't give me that crap about you being grown up, either. Yes, Vitya, I've noticed. I also noticed you haven't touched your schoolwork."

Ugh, Yakov's nagging was the worst. "I'll get it done."

"Good." He spared a moment to pat Makkachin's head, since she was nosing at his hand, then asked, "What did you want to eat for dinner?"

Victor didn't feel particularly like eating anything. Strange; usually he would have bombarded Yakov with suggestions. Must've been the bad mood. "I dunno. Anything is fine, I guess."

Yakov raised an eyebrow. "I'll see if we have the ingredients for any of your favorites, then," he said. "You need to eat up so you can heal."

"Sure," said Victor, and now he was thinking about his knee again, the things the doctor had said when he'd last seen her a couple of days ago. He was startled out of the thoughts by Yakov wrapping an arm over his shoulders. Yakov was warm and even more familiar than the coat. Victor blinked at him, then hugged him back like he'd done so many times before.

"You can get your homework done while I cook," Yakov said, his voice about as gentle as it got. "Even Olympic gold medalists need an education."

Victor grinned at him as he straightened out of the hug, pushing his hair out of his eyes. Usually Yakov was all about not counting chickens before they hatched, but he also knew better than anyone else what Victor could do.

Victor had quads. He had charisma. If the doctors were right, he'd have his body back in working order soon. He just had to try and be patient, as difficult as that was. Tomorrow, he would be a little stronger, and his knee would hurt less, and he would do just fine on his spins.

Makkachin was already waiting for him by the table where he'd left his schoolwork. Victor scratched her ears as he sat down and pulled his math book over. He took a deep breath, flipped it open, and made himself not think about practice or his knee, or even, for a little while, his dreams of that bright gold medal around his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this from Twitter](https://twitter.com/mami11293/status/1013696521533939712) \- some Japanese article apparently called the figure on the movie image a mysterious person or something like that, so people joked that it must be Yakov, or maybe Victor stealing Yakov's clothes, because Yakov's character image has a similar coat and scarf.


End file.
